Human
by Veterization
Summary: WARNING: Slash oneshot Beyond/L Beyond is in his prison cell. And he can't help but recall his past and what it's done to him while he waits for L to visit him.


_Disclaimer_: I do not own Death Note.

Despite contrary belief, Beyond Birthday had gotten what he wanted.

And he was perfectly happy suffering in a cell because of it. For every bit of happiness he gained, he had to give something in return, like a twisted, pessimistic bargain with life. But Beyond didn't mind. As long as he got what he wanted.

And what he had wanted was attention from L Lawliet.

Playing the game of capturing someone's attentiveness, capturing their eyes, capturing their respect, was one that needed to be tailored individually. If L had made the unorthodox choice to engage in a profession such as a fireman, Beyond would have developed an obsession with matches instead of blood and he would have run around setting buildings aflame instead of murdering innocent members of society.

But L wasn't a fireman. Nor was he anything else but a detective. And in a way, Beyond was relieved. All he had to do then was commit crimes. Cleverly built crimes, yes, with thorough research and analysis, but Beyond's brain was advanced and devoted enough to be smart with his sins.

And even though the attention he received was definitely not one of admiration or impressed adoration, he did certainly get attention.

L had gone through the effort to capture him.

But the best part was that he had been analyzed under the best of eyes. Analyzed much like a doctor would a terminally ill patient with a rare syndrome, or an archeologist stumbling across a prehistoric skull of an extinct mammal. Analyzed as the minority. Analyzed as something _interesting_. Something that would spark someone's attention and be enough reason for them to turn their head for a second glance.

Perhaps even a third.

O O O O O

At least, that was Beyond's goal. And whether anyone realized it or not, he had accomplished many more goals in his life that anyone would stop to notice.

A six-year-old Beyond Birthday was about as innocent and innocuous as they come.

His mental facilities were far from how deranged and twisted they had become within the next few years. There was a lack of an obsession with blood, scars made the young boy wince, and albeit anti-social, he was simply a troubled orphan, flummoxed by the turns his life had taken. Like most of the children at Wammy's, the loss of their families left their minds a wishy-washy mess, just waiting to be molded into whatever their environment and the society they were surrounded with wanted their brain to be built like, and Beyond was the same.

But unfortunately, the chaos all the orphan's minds were left with could only be sculpted into two separate things. One was learning from the disarray their minds were left with and using their astuteness for what they were asked to do – succeed the faceless and nameless L. The other was to dwell on their past and seek pity in their miserable lives by turning to self-satisfaction and using their cleverness against their comrades.

But nonetheless, back when Beyond Birthday was still a blank page waiting to be drawn on, he was a typical young boy.

With the exception of his scarlet eyes.

But he was young enough that the other five and six-year-olds didn't seem to think that such a deep crimson was an unorthodox color in a human's pupil. At the time, it was unimportant enough that not even Beyond thought about it twice.

However, for someone with the present of Shinigami eyes without parents to clear up any matters, Beyond found out what ability they gifted him with astonishingly early. He was a mere five years old when he was found staring attentively at the orphanage's fish. His eyes blurry and engorged behind the film of the thick fishbowl glass, Beyond blinked impassively at the pretty fish, a light shade of orange, glittering in the sunlight shining through the window and flickering on the water. He pressed his nose against the glass and parted his lips, exhaling a warm puff of air. The fishbowl fogged up under his lips.

"What's wrong with the fish, B?"

Beyond identified the voice as the noisy girl who he shared a wall with. He threw a glance over his shoulder as she put her palms on her knees and peered at the fish.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," B tapped a long finger against the bowl. The fish blinked emotionlessly back at him, swishing its tail.

"…so you know something's wrong with the fish but you don't know what?"

Beyond knitted his eyebrows together, the interruption of his examination of the fish making him slightly miffed. He sent a peeved glower over his shoulder at the girl.

"It's dying tomorrow. _Something_ has to be wrong with it."

Beyond would have been fine with more inquiries about the fish, but instead, what made indignant fury bubble up in his throat, was when the girl giggled through her missing teeth and laughed directly in B's face.

"What are you, _psychic_?" She teased, more girlish laughter escaping her lips. Beyond wrinkled up his nose and resisted the urge to tell her to cover her mouth when she laughed so obnoxiously.

"It says, right there. It dies _tomorrow_, March eighth." Beyond waved feebly at where the rubicund numbers floated over the petite fish's head. The girl's mouth fashioned a small frown.

"Right there?"

"Yes, right there." Beyond pointed again, sharper this time, at the red letters bumping into each other silently. She frowned.

"There's nothing there." Sending a shifty glance to Beyond, the raven could tell the girl was getting uneasy by his words, and the lack of a joke behind it. He was serious, and the fact that he was under the impression he could see something as morbid as a death-date looming over everyone's heads, something no one else could see, something bordering on supernatural, was scaring the girl. Beyond didn't really care.

"Yes there is." He said persistently, gluing his nose back onto the fishbowl.

"…where?" She asked apprehensively.

Thoroughly peeved by now, B stuck a finger right where the numbers lay. He glanced at his onlooker to see her reaction.

She looked even more horrified by now, glancing back and forth from his carmine eyes to the invisible numbers out of her eyesight. Now B was starting to get suspicious.

"You don't see anything?"

"O-of course not," now entirely on edge, the girl pinned her lower lip underneath her two front teeth, "you're a freak!"

Two seconds after her proclamation, she hastened off, her uncombed hair flying behind her in one frenzied blur.

The next day, at approximately two o'clock in the afternoon while everyone was still finishing up their lunches, the orphanage fish died a sudden and unexpected death. Excluding the young children who were puzzled about death and missed the pet as they walked by the empty fishbowl, no one was all too concerned. Roger promptly fished it out and disposed of it.

The fish's death was possibly one of the least noticed in the whole country at the time. It was simply a worthless, silent fish that swum interminably around the bowl it was housed in. It was replaced by a green fish within the week, and despite the change in color, no one noticed the exchange. Not even the youngsters who had been mourning the loss of their fish friend. Not even Beyond Birthday, who had predicted its death and watched it for hours straight the day before its heart stopped pumping.

There was, however, one exception.

The girl who Beyond had indirectly informed of his ability to predict someone's death with a mere glance at the crown of their heads because he had foreseen the fish's demise was mortified to find the fish lifeless, especially since she had spent the majority of the day before persuading herself that Beyond was nothing but a bizarre orphan whose mind was spinning on its axis out of control ever since his parents died.

She made it a promise to herself, out of fear and self-preservation, to never speak to the strange boy again.

Beyond, however, no matter how young he had been, considered himself a _freak_ ever since the incident.

The only difference was that now, years later, he spoke of this title others often gave to him with a grin on his face, as though he was proud to be considered truly insane.

O O O O O

It hadn't been a dark and stormy night.

It had been, in fact, a rather mellow night with the occasional gust of wind breezing by rusting trees so crinkly leaves padded softly across the streets. The moon wasn't full, either. And if it was, it was not up for show. Covered up a blurry array of gloomy clouds, like a dirty film over a camera's lens, the moon hadn't been the source of light that night.

But it was Halloween. And even though the only decoration Roger had agreed to putting up was a faded orange, slightly foul pumpkin, he should've have remembered that this sort of festive decoration would be noticed by a house full of children with extraordinary observation skills. Everyone in the orphanage had begged to mismatch their clothing into something that resembled a costume, stuff their flashlights with long-lasting batteries, and tug around pillowcases that would get increasingly heavy as the night dragged on and sugary candy weighed it down. And finally, Roger had folded.

With the majority of the population of the orphanage filing out of the building like marching ants, Roger at the head of line with a lantern as big as his torso lighting the way, the orphanage was silent. If Beyond stuck his head out into the hallway and listened, instead of hearing the obstreperous ululating and rowdy laughter of amused children scampering about, he heard nothing but the soft sound of a humming radiator. All those who hadn't left to go trick-or-treating, like Beyond, were confined in their rooms.

Beyond stared out the window, playing absent-mindedly with toothpicks in his fingers and sliding them in between his knuckles.

He had gone trick-or-treating last year.

A had promised to walk with him so neither of them would be friendless and ostracized when they rang doorbells. But after the first four minutes of speechless perusing with Beyond making sporadic remarks about the lack of ingenuity when it came to suburban Halloween decorations, A had wandered wordlessly over to the older kids. Even though all of the Wammy's children were in a gauchely made line, they were categorized. In front of Beyond had been the older and taller kids, at the peak of their teenager attitudes, and behind him had been the smaller children with pudgy hands and pillowcases that were bigger than their whole bodies.

He didn't mind being abandoned. He didn't mind walking on the dark, moonlit path and only following the sound of the chattering kids in front of him because A and him had agreed to share a flashlight. He didn't mind the lack of company. What he _did_ mind was when a kid, two years older than him and a few floors up from his room that he occasionally spied being boisterous in the cafeteria, approached B with a furrow to his eyebrows and asked him:

"Where the hell did you get that kind of costume?"

B's lips instantly tugged downward. He had no costume. He had searched his closet, half-heartedly at best, and settled for simply blending in with the night and wearing black. He didn't exactly want the attention that other kids had drawn to themselves wearing obnoxiously neon costumes with eccentric patterns.

"What costume?" Beyond asked dully.

The boy pointed two fingers at his eyes and snickered.

"What, did Roger let you sneak out into some lame Halloween shop so you could get colored contacts?" The boy teased. Beyond frowned.

"Colored contacts?" he parroted.

Once again, the boy pointed two stubby fingers at Beyond's pupils. "Yeah," he confirmed, "they look _so_ fake, dude."

Beyond raised an eyebrow elegantly even though he knew that the moonlight wasn't strong enough to illuminate his smug facial expression.

"At least it looks more real than the blood on your face."

"What blood on my face?" Flummoxed, the boy tapped his thumb around his cheekbones in the search of blood.

"_This_ blood." Almost as though it was a routinely-timed and rehearsed reflex, B's fist swung out of the air, and the darkness eclipsing his movement and slowing down his opponent's reflexes, his fist shot out and smacked satisfyingly against the boy's face.

Needless to say, Beyond wasn't keen on going trick-or-treating again, clueless children asking if his eyes were a mask or a clever costume he had made himself. So instead he stayed in his room, eyes wandering about the dark street as children tripped over the long hems of their costumes and swung around their bags of sweets.

Scowling, Beyond drew the curtain across the window and hopped off the chair he was sitting on while he was observing the rest of the children scampering around outdoors in the chilly fall breeze. He padded softly down the astonishingly silent hall and went straight for the kitchens, reaching for a jar of jam in one of the higher cupboards.

When a second later, he heard a soft, but distinct _mm_ wafting out from the pantry.

His instincts taking over, Beyond slid open a drawer and withdrew a slightly dull butcher's knife used for the steak and the poultry. Holding it like it was a samurai sword resting against his shoulder, Beyond tightened his grip and approached the pantry.

It could have easily been a child who was left behind from the trick-or-treating festivities, or simply didn't want to be teased for his ludicrous costume, but either way, was enjoying a consolation snack such as leftover orange chicken or banana pudding. But Beyond was a teenager who still wasn't above superstitions or walking on eggshells with knives tucked into his boxer tag around Halloween time. So he approached the pantry on his tip-toes and yanked it open with his free hand.

Only to find boys a few years younger than him that Beyond had mentally made fun of in the past seeing as one of them was a chocoholic and the other's thumbs were glued to his game boy twenty-four-seven, pressed up against the shelves that were stacking cans, mouths colliding and hips bumping as a few forgotten tins of tomato sauce tumbled to the floor and lolled around their ankles.

Beyond, for once in his life, didn't know what to say.

He mentally fought between laughing and crying, or just dashing off without even closing the pantry door and getting the strawberry jam that he came for.

But before he could put his plan into action, the boy with his skull pressed against the canned fruit and pushing them out of their neatly arranged rows seemed to realize that the dark pantry was suddenly flooded with light, and he pried open one eye, the other boy's lips still fused on his.

Roughly pushing the redhead off of him and wiping his lips off on his sleeve, the boy Beyond knew vaguely as Mello glared in the raven's direction. His hair was disheveled and his lips were pink and bruised, but Mello seemed oblivious to his appearance as he stomped out of the pantry dragging the other boy with him by the elbow.

"Mind your own business, B." Mello muttered, eyes low.

Beyond, still dumbstruck by the scene he had just witnessed, managed to do nothing but scowl after the rude blonde.

"People _eat_ from here, you little bitches!"

Still slightly flummoxed, Beyond closed the pantry door and snatched up his jam, a little miffed. By the time he had gotten to his room, his shock of watching boys younger than him engage in more sexual activities than he had ever even come close to had dissipated into pure wonder.

He was contemplating the act of osculation, pondering about the feel of it, the meaning behind even doing it. And most importantly, why Beyond, a fairly attractive boy with the exception of a few anti-social and unapproachable traits, had never even had the _opportunity_ to lock lips with someone.

Naturally, he had tried to understand what it felt like before. Pressing his lips to the shower tile, humming around the wet droplets of condensation trickling onto his lips and pulling back with soap suds on his tongue, or even softly brushing his mouth against a spoon.

From all the hullabaloo that he had heard, kissing was the most human you could be. While intertwining tongues, sharing saliva, exploring unmapped territories and relishing in the tingle that ran all the way up your torso as lips bumped, you felt _human_. Alive, simply because of the emotions that came with it. And Beyond, all because of the scarlet pupils gracing his presence everyday, had never really felt as though he had as much of a connection to humanity as everybody else did.

And while his hormones were certainly not raging out of control, Beyond, just like his idol, was a curious boy. And after witnessing other kids eating each other's tonsils in bathroom stalls and children at the orphanage not-so-discreetly exiting closets with boys sporting lip gloss on their mouths and girl's blouses to be undone to the point of being able to spy a lacy bra in the common eye, Beyond was feeling the familiar twinge of interest tugging at his mind.

O O O O O

The cell wasn't something Beyond would consider worthy bemoaning about.

It was rather pristine and hygienic for a cell. It was – astonishingly enough – Beyond's first time in a cell, and he was ashamed to admit that he had believed the detailed descriptions of dirty floors, rusty bars, and cement walls where inmates that had driven themselves insane had carved haunting messages in that other children at Wammy's had shared with him.

Naturally, his cell was more modern than an eighteenth century hole for all things to be executed. The walls were a drab and dusty gray, and surprisingly scrubbed down considering that all things as infallibly ashen as this cell tended to attract stains more than a dull black did.

Rapping his fingers against his bony kneecaps, Beyond parted his lips to let out the softest of sighs. He couldn't help but ponder who had used this cell before him. And then his mind drifted, almost naturally, to the thought of whether or not the previous inmate was once again roaming in the world after doing his time, or whether he was dead in the dirt in the back of the prison.

So Beyond did what he always found himself doing on reflex when a wave of uneasiness wafted through his body, the vexatious feeling tingling at his ankles. He laughed.

Beyond looked down, his feet bare. He rubbed his toes together, his skin pallid. The cell was cold.

It was then that he noticed the dark silhouette eclipsed in the evening shadow lingering outside of his cell, its shape the lump of a man.

Although any other prisoner would have feigned ignorance to the figure, assumed it was the nosy security guard and roared for it to bother another inmate, or crawl toward the bars in a desperate attempt to have social interaction, Beyond didn't do any of the above.

There was no way he couldn't recognize that hunch.

He pinned his lower lip in between his teeth to stifle his bubbling laughter and let a few quiet chuckles escape his teeth.

"Well," he muttered, "this is more attention than I expected."

And stepping out of the shadows so half of his face rested in the illumination of the moonlight, L lowered his eyelashes and purred softly.

"Have you always been this hard-headed, Beyond?" L's face, porcelain-like in the lighting, twitched slightly.

O O O O O

No one had known that L Lawliet, the very idol they were replicating to the best of their knowledge, was coming to visit on one not-so-special March afternoon.

It had been the first day in a long winter that dragged on its chilly breezes and morning frostbite that could have actually been considered warm. Several boys had taken advantage of the weather and at the start of noon they had taken over the yard and played an aggressive game of soccer while the bored onlookers, most of them females who attempted to send coy glances to the agile players, watched them. Once again, the orphanage was quieter than usual.

It was a well known fact, unspoken at best, that if L were ever to visit Wammy's, it would not be a social visit, filled with laughter over teacups and sharing fond childhood stories. Most of these children didn't have amusing pasts, with loving mothers and caring fathers, and as far as everyone was concerned, neither did L.

So Beyond was a little surprised when a group of supposedly adroit children couldn't realize than _any_ anonymous guest visiting the orphanage could be L in disguise.

But still, there was not a soul who paid any attention to the guest that Roger had invited for a quick meeting. In fact, the only children who did notice the visitor did nothing but exchange shifty glances seeing as the man seemed quite unorthodox.

And as Beyond walked by a group of girls standing by the entrance whispering, he caught a few words slipping out of their mouths.

"Who the hell is _that_?"

"Did you see the way he walked? Such a freak!"

Beyond said nothing. He was still interested as to who the capricious visitor was, considering Roger was not one to be commonly described as a frequent host. He padded on soft toes to Roger's office and knowing that he would surely be risking a punishment if he interrupted, he loitered wordlessly around the door. Roger's visitors never tended to stay longer than half an hour, since once again, the man was not one to be casually social.

So Beyond stood mutely outside the door, his shoulders pressed up against he wall as he dragged his knuckles down the door and waited patiently. And the moment the door opened he immediately cast a glance at the stranger standing by Roger with a slump to his shoulders as though there was an anvil resting on his neck.

No wonder the others had called him strange. He was most certainly an incongruous sight; his hair probably hadn't seen a comb in years, his eyes were dark and round like an owl's pupils, his skin was sickly pale, and his emaciated body, scrawny and thin, was hidden underneath baggy attire that he hid behind like armor.

His initial plan had been to discreetly steal a glance from the man and walk nonchalantly by him to continue up the staircase before Roger began a diatribe about snooping. But what his eyes were showing him was enough to keep his feet rooted in place like he was planted in the ground.

The words _L Lawliet_ were lingering on his tongue, tingling, waiting to be spoken, just so he could see how the name tasted in his mouth. But he bit the inside of his cheek instead, remaining as halcyon about his discovery as possible. He was a rash boy, but not a tactless one who performed thoughtless gaffes left and right.

_It was a big mistake writing him off as a freak, little girl_, Beyond mused with a growing grin, his mind automatically flitting back to the girls who had gossiped about the stranger as he walked in.

And Beyond watched, his eyes hawk-like, all of a sudden picking up the man's quirks which he hadn't bothered to notice when he was nothing but a stranger. But L? This was the man he desired to be in all ways imaginable. To walk like him, to talk like him, to replicate his elocution, to eat the same foods. Because if he did everything like this man, this man he adored so much, maybe he would start thinking like him. And maybe if they had the same thoughts, and they finished each other's sentences, and they always shared contemplations, Beyond could be the best successor L would ever wish for. And then?

Then L Lawliet would surely respect him. Adore him too. Thank him for his endless effort. L's attention was like a young, obsessive teenager who worshipped a handsome actor, and that man finally showing the girl that adulated him appreciation for her devotion. It was _golden_.

So he witnessed as L disappeared into the bathroom, slumping all the while. Beyond mentally pondered if the man suffered from a skeletal disease as he watched his shoulders hunch.

He was pondering more than just his aberrant idiosyncrasies. He was contemplating just how homologous the two males really were. They both had emaciated figures that didn't absorb sugars like other's bodies did. L was scrawnier than B, but then again, it was hard to tell with his shapeless clothes exactly how skinny his figure was. They both possessed skin that in the light, shone pure ivory. Beyond had always considered his skin unhealthy from lack of lingering outdoors under the sun, but now, seeing his idol with even more pallid flesh, he found his skin much more appealing.

And the rest of L's quirks, such as gnawing on his thumb nail, the dark rings surrounding his eyes that almost reminded Beyond of the eyeliner some of the older girls in the orphanage used, or the curve to his spine, were all things Beyond was more than willing to learn.

Roger was out of sight within a few moments. And almost as if neon arrows were lighting Beyond's way and encouraging him to burst through the bathroom just so he could snatch up his possibly only chance to converse with his hero, he instantly dashed inside the bathroom. He saw his luck, and he also saw that it was a once-in-a-million sort of luck. The kind that only shows up if you're in the right place in the right time and luck feels like being generous to a nobody such as yourself. Like winning the lottery – if Beyond had the winning ticket, he wouldn't bend it into a crude paper airplane and toss it out his window.

The winning lottery ticket was sitting in a Wammy's bathroom right now, possibly pant-less.

_Bingo_.

Knowing the risks to this dicey gamble he was taking, Beyond bit his lip hard, his teeth practically sawing into his flesh as he opened the door wide and slipped in.

It was a large enough bathroom that if so wished, Beyond could easily hide and not make his appearance known. But his lottery ticket was now washing his hands silently under the sink spout. Nothing truly humiliating or offensive, such as finding his mentor and his idol L with themed boxers down at his ankles as he sat on a toilet seat.

Beyond cleared his throat loudly and even prodded L in the shoulder lightly.

"Hello there." L muttered, locking eyes with Beyond through the mirror and not bothering to turn around to greet the younger boy, "Do you find all of Roger's guests interesting enough that you follow them into bathrooms?"

Beyond resisted the urge to reveal his discovery and knowledge of L's identity to him. His metaphoric teacup was already balancing precariously on the edge of a trembling shelf.

"No," he said simply, hoping L wasn't looking for an explanation behind his one-word response.

But the older raven clearly wasn't interested at all, not only in his short reply, but also in Beyond himself. He was heading for the door, one single fingertip reaching out to pull on the knob.

"I'm one of L's successors, you know," Beyond babbled, desperate on keeping L's attention.

"I was aware."

"My name's Beyond. Beyond Birthday." He internally reprimanded himself for revealing his name. L would surely chastise him for revealing information to someone randomly, seeing as he was unaware of Beyond's knowledge of his name and face.

"So they call you B around here, I presume?"

Beyond winced. The subtext in L's words was definitely an underlying admonishment that hinted for Beyond to use his one-letter alias instead of vacuously revealing his full name.

Intent on learning what L used as his alias, he extended his hand shamelessly. L refused to take his hands out of his pockets, staring speechlessly at his outstretched palm.

"And you are?" Beyond knew it was rude to prod at someone for their name, especially in Wammy's, where the children were taught to not pry anyone for identity seeing as they would probably only get bluffs in response anyway. But his curiosity overrode his tact and etiquette.

L still didn't move a muscle, ignoring B's hand.

"I don't shake hands. I apologize," L shook his head at the request firmly, "and as to who I am? I am Roger's guest."

_Roger's guest_. Definitely not an alias. Not a popular one, anyway. Beyond sighed, but knew it would be suspicious to pry further, and dropped his hand dejectedly.

"You here for… business matters, then?"

"No. Roger and I are friends, if you will. We visit occasionally." L replied. Beyond was instantly starting to trace a pattern in all of L's replies; they almost sounded rehearsed and fabricated purely for prying strangers, conveniently ambiguous but not vague enough that the average man would be able to detect that the formless replies lead to nowhere.

"Oh? So he visits you too?"

"Naturally." The older man dismissed brusquely, and once again reached out for the door.

Beyond, feeling bolder than ever, wrapped his pale, spidery fingers around L's as they landed on the doorknob. And the moment Beyond noticed the look on L's face, frozen and petrified as though he hadn't been touched in years and been burnt by a toaster rather then felt by another human, he knew his move had definitely crossed a line.

"I would appreciate if B would be so kind to remove his hand from mine." The cold formality in L's voice made B regret his decision to even lay his hand upon his idol's, no matter how innocent and soft the contact had been.

He could feel L's fingers twitching to be let out from their trap, squirming out from B's grip in obvious discomfort. But despite L's clear uneasiness and the stiffness of his previously dangling arm – and not to mention Beyond's mental promise to himself to only ever impress L, not cause him severe edginess as he was experiencing now – Beyond was enjoying the feel of L's surprisingly soft skin against his own.

He had always imagined L's skin to be rough and coarse from staying up all hours of the night typing and writing with scratchy pens to fill out endless paperwork, but it was almost porcelain-like. So before L could wriggle out from underneath his hand, Beyond wrapped his thumb around his small palm and held it gently.

"Could B _please_ remove his grip from–"

And knowing that he was pushing his luck and his lottery ticket was fluttering frighteningly close to the window sill, Beyond did what seemed to make sense. It most certainly captured L's attention. It most certainly also captured his discomfort and multiplied it by ten.

But all that was going through B's mind was the memory of running into Matt and Mello in the pantry on Halloween. Witnessing some of the older kids ducking out from under stairwells with flushed complexions and rosy lips, accidentally wandering into the wrong room and finding two teenagers entwined on bed sheets, they were all things that provoked Beyond's normally dormant want for human contact.

And here was L Lawliet, and if there was anyone who Beyond wanted to test out his blooming curiosity with, it would be his idol, his hero. And in the back of his mind, he silently wondered if he would ever get another chance like this one.

Him and the greatest detective in the world were in a bathroom, hands barely brushing on the doorknob, and it was definitely more than just the average situation to be in.

In Beyond's eyes there was nothing wrong with increasing the unusualness in the situation as long as there was already something to build off of.

He leant forward, his back bending almost awkwardly as he pressed his lips delicately against his idol's, barely brushing, barely even kissing, but there still being enough pressure to identify the act as obvious osculation. It was nothing more than simple, and clearly the act of an inexperienced kisser who kept his tongue within its own boundaries and moved his lips slowly against his partner's. He tried to rub their mouths together, as though he was massaging their lips together.

It was amazing how responsive L's motionless lips were. They remained still throughout Beyond's kiss, even as he increased the pressure timidly and dragged a probing tongue past his lips. He could feel L tensing under the invading contact, but still refrained from pulling away.

He wondered exactly why L wasn't pulling away, especially being a man who clearly despised personal contact with other humans. B was not only a stranger, but a stranger with a curious tongue. He contemplated why he wasn't feeling the rough push of L's palms on his chest; was it because it was possibly L's first kiss? Was it because he sensed an aura of emotional depth in the brief kiss? Or was it simply out of shock?

Beyond prayed it wasn't the latter and kissed a little harder before he finally felt L's lips freeze under his own. Pulling back swiftly, he didn't bother to blush or run like a young girl ashamed of her disobeying. Instead, he locked eyes with L and resisted the urge to plant another kiss on his lips, as a small seal of sorts.

His curiosity had definitely been sated. And he now knew firsthand that kissing, of all things, was ridiculous.

Swapping spit, attaching lips that touched who-knew-what, all of it was insane. It didn't make any sense to him. It was like clumsy four-year-olds clasping together their mud-coated hands after trying to lick them clean. It was more than just unsanitary. It was repulsive.

And Beyond liked it. Maybe it was just the feeling of _L's_ lips against his, rubbing and touching. But it was the kind of touch, the kind of kiss being that of which sent tingles and shivers up his vertebrae.

In a way, Beyond was lucky he never received a kiss again in the future. It would never trump his first one with L, and Beyond liked believing that every kiss would give him such a thrill.

"Are you finished?"

Beyond blinked. Consternation of the aftermath of his gaffe suddenly trickled into Beyond, stomach first.

_Are you finished?_

Finished invading his personal space? Finished molesting him? Finished holding him hostage in the bathroom?

If he was referring to any of the activities Beyond had recently inflicted upon him, _are you finished_ was definitely not an appropriate question. He expected a diatribe, a snarl, denigration, possibly a punch.

"I," He started, unsure how to continue. He fed off of people's discomfort and twisted it into his own wit. He didn't know how to work off this impassive monotone. "I'm finished."

He had barely realized that his hand was still resting on top of L's and promptly pulled away, allowing the detective to promptly take his leave without even looking back.

Beyond touched his lips with his thumb. He ghosted his tongue over his mouth. He pondered if the whole thing had all been a chimerical fantasy that his brain had cooked up in hallucinating-esque fashion during his frisson.

Years later, locked up in his degrading cell, his recollection of the kiss growing blurrier by the week, he still didn't have confirmation that proved if his memory was false or an actual occurrence.

He normally wouldn't have been afraid to query L about it, no matter how cumbersome the task would prove to be, but internally, he was frightened of what answer he would receive.

O O O O O

L's numerous questions were of no interest to Beyond. Now that he was suffering for his crime in his cell, the deed done and the sin unable to be taken back, Beyond didn't need to be interrogated about it. It was unnecessary, considered L probably already deemed him to be deranged, his red eyes and achromatic skin making his appearance look even zanier and almost comical.

Beyond Birthday would not be answering questions.

"Did you know," Beyond drawled, his head lolling almost lifelessly onto his bony shoulder.

He would be the one inquiring tonight.

"…that I knew exactly who you were in the bathroom?"

If L was stunned by this sudden revelation, his face failed to betray his stoic posture and remained emotionless. Beyond wasn't anticipating a response on his exterior. He had learned over the years of watching L that the man was such a successful and clear-headed detective simply because he kept his feelings stunted and neglected, as though hibernating in the back of his mind to be dormant forever.

"Did you overhear Roger and I talking through the door?" L asked, sorting through the reasonable options.

Beyond smiled crookedly, and shook his head.

"I wouldn't resort to that."

"Did you trick Roger into informing you of who I was?" The detective ran through more options.

"Roger would never tell me something that important." B dismissed.

"Then you are lying."

A long and satisfied roar of laughter erupted from Beyond's throat at the mere thought of possessing more knowledge about a subject than his all-knowing idol. He dragged himself up the wall, edging closer to the bars.

"Wrong again," he taunted with a sickly grin, and almost ready to burst from the smugness that inflated his ego as he dangled the perplexed detective by puppeteer's strings, he finally opened his lips and breathed out three forbidden syllables, "_Lawliet_."

This time, L's jaw twitched. He stuck a thumb between his lips.

"Very impressive," was all he spoke. If Beyond was disappointed by the lack of a reaction, he certainly hid it well behind his mask of a derailed man's grin.

"I haven't been spying. I just know these things."

"That's curious," L commented again, and cocked his head to the left, "But I will not ask how you know of my identity yet. That is not why I'm visiting, B."

"I know that." The younger man clarified.

The detective parted his lips and let out a soft, almost sad, sigh. Beyond stared up at L silently.

"There is always something to salvage in a criminal mind if they admit to–"

But before the older man could finish his sentence, Beyond wrapped his fist around the bars until his knuckles were deathly pale and rested his forehead against them.

"Do you remember me?"

L ephemerally paused his speech and tilted his head to the other side, "Unfortunately," he confessed, "back when you were my successor. Now I do not wish to remember you anymore."

But his queries weren't over. Beyond pressed his cheeks close until the bars left indentations on his flesh.

"Do you think I'm insane?"

"B. Do not ask me of this." L replied shortly.

The silence that graced the cell and the hallway surrounding it was almost mortifying. The only sound heard was the soft susurrus of leaves wafting around outdoors as the wind soughed through towering pine trees. Not a single word was exchanged for what seemed like nearly ten minutes, just their eyes interlocking.

Their height was only off by the merest of centimeters. If closer, the cusps of their noses would brush against each other. And as Beyond examined his idol's face, he found that even some of their faint freckles were flawlessly aligned.

_We're the same._

"No answer," Beyond whispered, almost quietly enough so not even L could overhear his words, "is also an answer."

He expected nothing in reply from L, impassive as always, his dark eyes almost dead as they bored into Beyond's. A glint of crimson pupil reflected through L's iris. Beyond wished it didn't.

But instead of nothing, a few timid, tentative fingers crawled up the bar like a scrambling spider, and as though human contact was a foreign concept to L that he had never bothered to learn and master, he apprehensively placed two fingertips on the back of Beyond's hand, his touch so light it was almost ticklish. But B would definitely not pull back his hand, nor would he move it in any fashion whatsoever, letting L do as he pleased.

And after receiving no rejection from a person who L believed would snap at him for touching him, he went further and furled his fingertips around the palm that was clawing tightly around the bar. The simple touch made Beyond's grasp on the metal rod loosen considerably.

And very softly, L leant forward, as close he could get with the invisible boundary of the bars separating them, and pushed his lips near B's ears.

"You're going to die," he said softly.

Beyond let out an involuntary shiver.

He wasn't hearing the words L was saying. The way his breath wafted on his ear, the way his lips brushed gently against his skin as he spoke, it was enough to smother the despondence that came with the words the raven was whispering. They were terminal, words like that. Once his life was over, Beyond Birthday was officially gone.

But the way L spoke it, tenderly, humanly, as though he believed Beyond was still a person, a creature worth living and a man without insanity plaguing his tortured soul, was masking the words he said.

"You're going to die," L repeated, even softer than before, almost as though he wasn't sure if Beyond had heard it or not considering the lack of emotion he was displaying at such a serious matter. "I'm sorry to say that no one will notice."

B wondered if L was excluding or including himself in his statement, and wanted to stare directly into Lawliet's eyes as if to see if he could x-ray through them and analyze his brain for the thoughts he was keeping inside. The thoughts he had worked so hard to see. But still, he was afraid that if he moved his ear away from L's mouth, the detective would pull back. So he stayed where he was, unmovable by any sound or touch, and simply savoring the propinquity between L and him.

"Because I'm going to replace _you_ for a change… _Ryuzaki_."

The alias sounded foreign and strange coming from L's tongue, almost as if he had never heard himself addressed as such a title before.

"…Ryuzaki?" He repeated tautologically. From his peripheral vision, Beyond could detect L nodding his head curtly. He smiled, the sides of his mouth feeling the instinct to reveal his teeth and curl one side of his lips upward to form a crooked and tormented smile, but instead he bit back the impulse and left his grin soft and almost undetectable.

But the moment was ruined when L repeated, firmer but still gingerly, "_You are going to die, Beyond Birthday_."

_Beyond Birthday_.

_You called me Beyond Birthday_.

"I don't care," the raven replied, his tone almost naturally balancing itself to match L's gentle one, "I got what I deserve."

"Nobody deserves to die, criminals or–"

"Your attention," Beyond confirmed before L could even finish his sentence, "I have it. _Ryuzaki_."

And if L was going to deny this proclamation, after hearing the name escape the killer's lips, he refrained from doing so. Whether he was wordlessly agreeing or simply not going to take away the last string of contentment from a man with an expiration date ticking on his shoulders, Beyond was glad L remained silent.

There was nothing else he had to say to take Beyond's shadowy demeanor, that had formed over time and rusted from neglect and the need for control, and transform it into something that Beyond had never had the luxury of feeling; being human.

_Human_.

And there, the days of his execution looming on his head but for once, him not being able to predict them, Beyond fell in love with L Lawliet through the cell bars of the prison he would spend the rest of his lifetime in. He had barely been a few weeks too late in realizing this fact, the fact that not only did he adore the man in front of him, but he had the ability to love. Something he had always been unsure of while he grew up.

L Lawliet, and everything about him, made him feel human.

Not a freak. Not insane. Not a creature. Not a malformation. Not a mistake. Not a monster. Not a supernatural being created by Gods of Death tossing their eyeballs into the world carelessly.

Human.

_AN_: It's my birthday tomorrow. :)


End file.
